


The smell of cigarettes

by TrashyAzeoHane



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: And maybe someone else too, David is 35, David is a stripper and pole dancer, I hate when tags don't want to start with a capital letter, I'm tired, M/M, Maxvid - Freeform, Not beta-read, Stripper!David!AU, Stripper!Maxvid!AU, happens in the future, max is 21, pole dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyAzeoHane/pseuds/TrashyAzeoHane
Summary: Max never expected to see him again.The memories of the dance came back. David swaying his hips, David seductively wrapping his legs around the pole, David arching his back, David smiling softly at the audience and at Max.Especially not here.





	The smell of cigarettes

Max actually didn’t like the smell of cigarettes. It made his stomach clench in that very uncomfortable way, not to mention it almost immediately made him want to cough. And the worst fact was that he simply couldn’t. He couldn’t even allow his eyebrow to twitch, he couldn’t let that awful grimace form on his lips, even though it desperately wanted to.

He had to remain calm, collected, with his back straight and face empty of all emotions. Even when the only thing he wanted to do was to get out of this place. Because this place reeked of smoke and tobacco.

Max already hated this place.

So he focused his gaze on the man in front of him. He definitely wasn’t young, but no one could call him old either. Maybe around forty years old. His auburn hairs had few gray streaks here and there, but other than that they were kept in perfect shape. Beside that the only details showing his secret were wrinkles near his nose.

The man was smoking a cigarette, taking long, slow inhales. Max’s father, sitting next to him, was smoking too. Max was the only one sitting at the table who wasn’t smoking.

The gray puffs slipped past the man’s thin lips as he leaned more comfortably on a chair.

Max wanted to correct his tie, maybe loosen it a little to let more air into his lungs, but knew better not to do that. He was only supposed to sit there, showing a perfect image of the heir of Max’s father’s company. And apparently underworld company too.

Max always knew his father wasn’t a good person – that kind of person who was making deals only in the daylight. He knew it since he had been more over able to think on his own. He had seen it in the cold glint behind the glasses his father wore.

Max’s father wasn’t any better than the man in front of them with his wrinkled fingers holding a thin cigarette. He moved the disgusting thing near his mouth and took a deep inhale, only to let out a gray puff of smoke.

Max’s father should have known better not to smoke. He knew all about the consequences of smoking. But he wasn’t any better. He was way worse with every fact Max found out about him.

When his father had started to involve Max with his job, with his workers, with this… this world, Max had found himself disliking the person he called father more and more. He wasn’t sure he ever loved him, but now… now he was definitely sure it wasn’t love what he was feeling towards the man who gave him life.

However Max had tried to say ‘ _no_ ’ to this. Well, he had tried, countless of times, but no one ever had listened to him. His life had been planned beforehand. He was going to take over his father’s company – both the light and dark part of it. And due to that his father finally had decided that Max should meet some of his most trustworthy customers.

So Max found himself wearing a handsome suit and following his father’s every step when they had stepped into this club.

However Max expected something else from this place. Maybe the other part of his club, the part opened for common people, was different. But this part – a secluded area for chosen ones – was more… private. Was more bearable. The reflectors were still casting a bright pink or red stream of light onto some of the tables, but it wasn’t hurting Max’s eyes. The music – from jazz to upbeat pop songs – was more tolerable than the techno shit he had heard just few minutes ago.

The scene at the front of the club wasn’t lit, but even in the dim light Max could see the metal poles glinting there, ready to be used by strippers and dancers.

Gladly Max wasn’t on the bottom floor. He was on the upper floor, in a small secluded area, almost in front of the scene. The light above their round table was dim, but Max still could see (or maybe sense) four people guarding their place of trade from behind walls. Two working for them, two working for the man in front of them.

A waiter brought them drinks. Two alcoholic and one coffee. His father never drank. One of the good traits he had and he didn’t have that many in Max’s opinion.

“So about the last order, I think you could give me a small discount.” The man said, moving the cigarette from his mouth to smile almost softly at Max’s father.

“Why should I?” Max’s father asked, bringing an ashtray closer to himself to brush some of the gray dust into it.

“Because I ordered two hundred syringes from you? I paid full price for them.”

His father didn’t speak for another inhale. Max took a sip of his drink, closing his eyes and focusing on not smelling the terrible scent of nicotine.

“I can reduce the price by 5 percent.”

“Seven?”

“Five. And don’t ask for more. It’s still a lot of money in overall.”

The man shrugged, taking one last inhale to finally destroy the cigarette in the ashtray.

“Better than nothing.” He snickered as he pocketed the pack of cigarettes he had put on the table. _White Marlboro_.

His father smoke _Lucky Strikes_. His mother _Camels_. Max nothing. He never even had put one in his mouth.

“So I was curious about the last supply.” Max’s father started, also getting rid of his cigarette. “I added less _DOx_ and more _SSRI_.”

“Oh, your small experiment.” The man chuckled into his glass, closing his eyes. “Oh yes, the effects were good. Although some subjects were throwing up quite a lot afterwards.”

“How many?”

“One in ten people?” The man shrugged. “Something around that.”

His father nodded, writing the information down somewhere in the back of his mind. Max knew he was already calculating, changing the amounts of substrates, increasing the doses of some substances and getting rid of others.

Max knew he should start to think like that. He knew his father expected him to do so.

The only problem was that Max didn’t want that.

So he grumpily started to look around.

His father and the man talked. The sealed old deals and started new ones. They spoke about old friends and new clients. They talked about their future, about people who needed to be eliminated, about possibilities of new, more terrible drugs. They talked about him – Max – the new heir of the pharmaceutical company.

Max listened with one ear, writing down every important information in the back of his head too. He was quite good at multitasking.

Someone appeared on the scene – a dark silhouette ran from one end to the other. Then after a second a skittish beam of bright pink light blinked at the backstage, shadows moved behind the crimson curtain, some of them whispering suspiciously into each other’s ears.

Some of the people from beneath them whistled. Some became quiet and focused on the stage.

There was a commotion at the backstage.

Something was happening.

“Oh, it’s finally starting.” The man spoke, turning his head to the scene. His fingers moved methodically as he took out another cigarette, putting it between his lips.

The hand didn’t move yet to the lighter.

“What is starting?” Max asked. His voice was steady and emotionless, even though he didn’t speak for almost whole evening.

The curiosity got to Max, it started nibbling on his consciousness.

The man grinned, resting his chin on one hand.

“The show.”

Max wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious answer, but stopped himself in time. The only thing he did was focus on the dark scene. He could see now more frantic movements in the background. The longer they were making the preparations, the more people started to quiet down and turn their heads to the main point of the club.

The man finally lighted his cigarette, doing the same to his father’s one.

“I knew there was something suspicious about the time.” Max’s father said, inhaling deeply the terrible smoke into his lungs.

“What can I say? I never missed his show.”

“Never thought about bringing a woman into your bed?”

“You know my preferences.”

His father sighed loudly. From what Max knew he wasn’t against same sex relationships, but he wasn’t supporting them either. The fact that he hadn’t kicked Max out after he had come out to like both was a proof of that.

However after that he had been extra harsh on Max.

Well that was one price to pay.

Max only glanced at the man and turned to the stage where someone turned on a bright reflector, immersing the main center of the scene in crimson light. The metal pole stood there, proudly, waiting for the show to start. Waiting for its faithful partner in crime.

Max already had seen few pole dance shows, but never one performed by a man. And maybe, just maybe, it picked his curiosity. And judging by the people quieting down, turning their heads, stopping whatever they were doing just to watch – it had to be a good show.

He felt sparks of excitement running down his spine.

“You’ll like his show, Max.” The man said, staring at him like he simply knew.

Max only glanced back, not saying anything, but not denying either. He might have a little fun out of this boring meeting after all.

His heart thumped loud, louder and even louder with every passing minute. All voices turned into drizzling whispers. Few more people stepped inside the club and stood in places with a good view of the scene.

His father sat more comfortably on his chair and took out his phone, not even a little bit interested in the show.

Then finally a feminine voice spoke from somewhere above them, seeping sweetly from speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the star of this night to the stage.”

People clapped as the light around them dimmed into a comfortable darkness, where the bright red spotlight was even more eye catching. There was another minute of silence, until the soft music started to play and then there were footsteps coming from behind the shimmering curtain.

The music sped up and the pale hand appeared, first brushing the material softly away, only to get rid of it in one swift movement later.

Max felt like his whole world crashed down, he felt an explosion at the back of his mind, he felt the waves rippling through his chest, he shivered under the earthquake that shook him to the core.

There was silence and then rapid gasp for air of his heart. There was painful clench and sweet release.

The man on the stage definitely knew what he was doing. No, better, he was playing with the steps, twirling his hips and head in the rhythm of the music. He knew he was the ruler – the king and queen – of the stage. He knew what to do, how to move his body to get the attention it deserved.

Like the revealing clothes weren’t enough.

It actually wasn’t enough.

Or maybe it was the opposite. It was too much. Clothes which were showing a lot of the glistening, naked skin, but still not enough. Not enough to kill the thirst roaming around the body.

The clothes were perfectly matched to the figure – tight in good places and loose in others – showing what needed to be showed and hiding parts that had to be hidden.

One step, then another, a warm smile stretching across painted lips, eyes shimmering like stars in the night.

The dancer palms grabbed the pole and he spinned around it. Maybe to check if everything was alright. Or maybe it was all a part of the play. _I’ll drive you to madness_ play. It was a simple movement, but Max found himself clenching his fists, breath getting lost somewhere in the middle of his dry throat.

Max felt eyes on himself, he felt that the man with whom they were talking observed him, but Max didn’t care. He was fully focused on the dancer, on the man in the middle of the club, who seductively grabbed the pole with his legs and arched his back, moving hands away from the metal like it was the easiest thing in the whole world.

His fingers looked like wings… no, like feathers, moving, shivering just before starting the flight.

The beautiful eyes were closed, locking away the forest green galaxies which had warmed Max’s chest few seconds ago. But then they were back, directed at the people at the bottom floor. The dancer slipped down the pole, leaving little to imagination what it all meant.

Max felt jealousy sparkling to life in his temple.

But the dancer wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t making a pause in his beautiful swirls, in his alluring bends of legs, in his astonishing acrobatic displays. It was breathtaking and erotic, both in the same time. It definitely took a lot of effort – to show something out of this world and make everyone in the room undress you in their minds, planning on what they would do to those cherry lips and perfect thighs.

Even Max’s father looked up from his phone.

The man on the stage was alive. He was laughing, showing everyone the warmest of grins in the whole world and yet it felt like he was doing it, doing it all just for you.

Yet the spectacle had a note of longing, missing – a lost chances of… something.

Or maybe it was all just his imagination.

Max’s whole body was tense as he observed, as he devoured the erotic movements of hips sliding down the pole, the legs wrapped around the metal in need and the palms and fingers clasped around the pole like it was the lifesaver. Red hair, amazingly made at the very beginning, now were disheveled, glued to the forehead in few places.

But this natural look was even better – with beads of sweat running down the neck. God, the neck. It was alluring, it was intoxicating, it was making Max want more, it was making him want to touch the male, to brush fingers on his glistening skin, to taste the lips, to run hands through his hair, to make him open that pretty mouth and hear the moans that could escape it.

It was torture.

Max’s knuckles turned pale. He was almost sure he cut his skin with his own nails as he desperately tried to control his breathing.

And then the dancer arched his back and directed his gaze at the upper floor. Where Max sat. His gaze drifted from one person to another and then–

He met Max’s own intense gaze.

The world crashed down. Max felt his chest constricting – it felt like a supernova exploded inside his mind when he stared at the man and the male stared back.

It was a storm, no, no, it was a lightning and thunder during the storm. No, it was a wave of heat, no, no, passion, no, need, adoration – no, no, not this. It was everything, it was a burst, it was a pour, no, a rain of emotions – longing, love, hope, joy.

Something tugged painfully on Max’s heart, making his breath hitch. It wanted to run away, it wanted to get out. It needed to get out.

Then, after eternities passed, the man still didn’t look away. The smile, warm and kind, twitched – a crack in the demeanor – but came back with more force. It didn’t come back as kind as before, but more seductive.

The dancer knew what kind of reaction he was getting from people. From Max.

The man moved his gaze away as he twirled and moved around the pole. But then it was back, staring innocently at him, at Max, when the movement of the body was definitely far away from being innocent and pure.

Max couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. The only thing he saw, he felt was the dancer, his eyes, his movements, his revealing clothes, his hair, his skin. The memories they shared.

They jumped out and into focus in front of Max’s eyes – or maybe at the back of his head. It didn’t matter. They were there. Showing images of and from the past, like he was supposed to compare them to the present.

Then their gazes crossed again and again and again. Max needed it. Max waited for the moment when the man’s fascinating orbs would met his own, which seemed like he was doing quite often.

Every time it happened it still managed to steal Max’s breath and heartbeat away.

Max wanted to move closer, to reach his hand and touch the man and ask… so many, many questions. But he also wanted to do other things, more inappropriate things. He wanted to see that pretty face twisting into pleasure, to feel his legs wrapping around Max’s body, to sense his nails scraping Max’s back in a bliss.

He wanted it all and more.

The dancer whirled, climbing up the pole, almost to the very top. The music roamed, swam around people, making their hearts beat faster, anticipating the finale. Then there was a second of calmness before the storm hit, taking everyone’s breaths away. The gasp was even louder than the music, when the body of the dancer moved down at the unnatural speed.

But then there was laughter, there were claps of approval, there were whistles and shouts, when the man managed to stop himself in time, staring at the crowd with almost shy smile stretched across his lips.

Maybe it was the smile that captivated them all in the end.

When everyone finally woke up from the trance, they started clapping, louder and louder when the man moved away from the pole, sweating, but grinning from ear to ear. He bowed – the bills of money flew in the air. It was a rain, rain of appreciation, because the applause wasn’t dying.

The ovation wasn’t disappearing even as the man turned around and moved to the back of the stage. He grabbed the curtain and swirled around, sending a mischievous smirk to the audience before disappearing from sights. But not before sending one last glance in Max’s direction.

Max was also clapping. So was the man in front of him. So was his father, but much slower, like he was only being polite.

It took a lot of time until the audience finally calmed down and the whole world returned to normalness.

Max was sweating and breathing hard, which he tried to hide under his emotionless façade. He grabbed his drink and took a small sip, hoping it would calm his racing heart.

Thump, thump, thump.

It was painful.

“I told you you’ll like it.” The main said, taking a sip of his own drink too.

“It definitely was… something.” Max’s father said, returning to his usual sitting position. His fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on the surface of the table. He wanted to smoke.

“I know, he’s amazing.” The man laughed heartily. One hand played with the lighter, twirling it around.

“What’s his name?” Max asked, without thinking and biting his tongue in time. The images, the memories, the gaze, the smile – it all was still vivid in front of his eyes.

“Firefly.” The man said, the smirk not leaving his lips as he took out another cigarette from the pack. There were only three left. Max’s father still nervously tapped his fingers. “That’s his nickname here.”

Firefly. Weirdly fitting. A spark in the night, alluring everyone to it.

“If you were impressed by the show, then I must admit he is even better in bed.”

Max turned around, fully focusing on the man in front of him – at his thin fingers moving the cigarette to his mouth and then offering one to Max’s father, at his grin when he lighted it, at the understanding glint in his eyes when he stared back at Max.

“Oh, really?” Max asked, trying to sound disinterested, yet burning inside from… what?

Rage?

Anger?

Pain?

“Totally worth every dollar I paid for the night.” The man added, leaning on the table and exhaling the gray smoke right into Max’s face. “And let me tell you, it wasn’t a small price”

He tried really hard not to cough, but it was burning his lungs, nose, eyes and inner mind.

“Is he that expensive?”

“Very.” The man nodded, still with that devilish smile dancing in the corner of his lips.

“Can we stop talking about him and focus on more important matters?” Max’s father spoke up, brows furrowed in annoyance as he inhaled the smoke from the borrowed cigarette.

The man chuckled.

“Sure can, sir.”

Max looked down at the stage, but the man didn’t come back after that one dance.

* * *

Max’s father turned to the man and shook his hand. His mouth twitched, forming something similar to a smile. Or something that resembled it. A show of content.

“It’s always a pleasure to make business with you.”

“Same here.”

Then Max’s father stepped away, taking out his phone to call their chauffeur.

The man turned to Max. The same smirk appeared on his mouth as he showed his hand to him.

Max was just about to take and shake it, when he found the man grabbing his wrist and then pushing something into his palm with the other hand.

Max was puzzled when the man moved closer to whisper into his ear.

“I thought you may need it.” He said. “Experience him for yourself.”

Then the man moved away, covering whatever he had pushed into Max’s hand with his own palm as they shook their goodbyes.

After that they spoke no more. The man only nodded at the chauffeur who came to pick Max and his father up and then walked away with two bodyguards following his every step.

Max hid the gift inside his pocket when his father was busy getting into their car.

Only when Max was alone in his room, he took the thing out to inspect it under a desk lamp.

It was a business card. With three things written there – _Candy Store_ , _Reservations_ and a row of numbers.

Max’s heart jumped to his throat. He felt it pulsating in his ears.

The memories of the dance came back. David swaying his hips, David seductively wrapping his legs around the pole, David arching his back, David smiling softly at the audience and at Max.

Their eyes crossing.

Max had recognized David the second he had stepped on the stage. Max immediately had recognized David’s smile, his eyes, his hair, his movements. And with this recognition had come million questions.

The row of numbers was inviting.

The man was right. This was exactly what Max needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh... finally finished checking it.  
> So yeah, this is a story on which I was working since... August, I think? I finally had time to finish it properly.  
> It probably has a lot of mistakes! Sorry, english isn't my native language!  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!  
> Maybe I'll write more to this AU... maybe...


End file.
